


Of Photos, Frames and Fur

by LilyK



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Curtain Fic, Established Relationship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 02:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11453745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: Bodie wonders why Doyle has a silver-framed picture of Cowley in his flat.





	Of Photos, Frames and Fur

Bodie slid gracefully onto Doyle's sofa. Like so much cool mercury, Bodie. He practically oozed down, all long legs and hard body. Doyle licked his lips, enjoying the visual feast. Bodie was gorgeous with that dark hair and those all-seeing blue eyes. A mouth to die for and hands that could make an angel sing with pleasure.

"Eh?" Doyle sputtered, realising that he'd been so busy relishing the vision before him that he hadn't noticed that Bodie had moved. And he hadn't heard a word of what Bodie'd apparently been saying.

Bodie stood before him, waving his hands through the air, his face a picture of impatience. One hand held a familiar item.

"Why in God's name do you have a picture of George? Not only a photo, mate, a framed photo. In a bloody expensive silver frame." Bodie held it aloft, presenting it to Doyle as if he thought Doyle had never seen it before.

"What?" Doyle asked again, needing a moment to change gears from ogling his partner to the subject at hand. He blinked slowly. "Cowley?"

Bodie rolled his eyes. "No, George the Third. Of course, Cowley!" Reaching out, Bodie tapped him on the head. "Clean your ears out, sunshine!"

"Oh, sorry." Doyle ignored the question presented to him in favour of blissful stupidity. Sometimes it was the only proper response to Bodie's too-astute probes. He settled for a bright smile instead. Distraction was the better part of valour, wasn't it? He chuckled to himself for his strange sense of humour. Should he share it with Bodie? A glance at his friend told him that it might not be appreciated right now.

"Christ, Doyle, did that rap on your noggin yesterday rattle that pea brain of yours or what? I asked you about the framed picture of the Old Man!" Bodie sat back down and placed the photograph in the centre of the coffee table. Lifting his can of lager, he took a long draught.

"Oh, that." Doyle shrugged, taking pains to look bored.

"Yes, that." Bodie looked at him expectantly, and even leaned towards him a touch.

"Well..." Doyle looked at the ceiling before he turned back to Bodie with as much disinterest as he could muster. Bodie's expression told Doyle that he was in for a major interrogation. Doyle was having none of it, but knowing Bodie's tenacity, he reckoned a few words might be called for. "It was a pressie of sorts."

An eyebrow rose, arching over a curious blue eye. "A pressie of sorts?"

"You do know what a pressie is, don't you, Bodie old son? It's what people give each other-"

"Leave off. 'Course I know!" Bodie leaned forward and carefully set his can on the coffee table. "You are evading the question."

From the glare on Bodie's face, Doyle knew he was putting a lot of effort into looking ferocious. Doyle's amusement built, but he felt that might not be the proper response at the moment. No sense letting Bodie know he was having fun taking the piss out of him. Instead, he gave Bodie a weary put-upon look. "I'm not! I'm just -- knackered. Yeah, it's been a long day. I think it's time you headed off."

"Doyle, we didn't even break a sweat today! We sat on our arses in the rest room and filled out reports for two hours. Then we played sixteen hands of gin rummy, of which I won fifteen, you might remember. You owe me three pounds, by the bye. We drank four cups of coffee and two cups of tea each, and ate three packs of biscuits. Had to use the loo three bloody times in one day."

"I'll have you know I didn't eat half those biscuits! You ate most of them. I had two from each packet, is all." He lifted his chin and crossed his arms. For more emphasis, he narrowed his eyes.

"So who's keeping track? And you're still changing the subject." Then Bodie asked again, slowly this time, making Doyle think that Bodie was losing patience but willing to try one final last frigging time. "Why do you have a framed picture of The Cow in your flat?"

"All that hard work tired me out. I need me bed. Goodnight, Bodie." With a huge yawn and a rub at his eyes, followed by a sigh to emphasise his extreme patience, Doyle let his head droop a bit more.

Bodie crossed his own arms. Doyle sighed again as he cast Bodie a sidelong glance. He could tell from the set of his partner's shoulders and the look on his face that nothing but the honest-to-God truth would dislodge him from the sofa. Not that he had a mind to give that truth out. Not that, and risk Bodie's teasing for the next two years. Best make that ten...

The silence stretched. Bodie never budged, but neither did Doyle.

"Never you mind," Doyle finally said.

"Eh?"

"It's personal." Doyle stressed the word, knowing even as he said it that he'd probably made a fatal error in his choice of words.

Bodie leaned forwards, curiosity radiating from every pore. "Personal? As in -- private? As in you and Cowley...?" He let his voice deliberately trail off and plastered a lecherous grin on his face.

Rather than add fuel to Bodie's search for fire, Doyle took the high road and ignored his insinuation. He made himself look highly affronted as he grabbed Bodie's arm. "It's late! Out. Now."

Bodie shrugged off Doyle's grasp. "Never thought I'd see the day. All you had to do was tell me. Invited to the nuptials, am I?" Then he grinned.

Doyle barely resisted the urge to rearrange Bodie's teeth as he felt his temper start to rise but then he realised that, as usual, Bodie was pulling his leg. And very well, he admitted to himself sourly. Why hadn't he tossed that damned photograph years ago? He knew good and well why he hadn't. Nevertheless, with another theatrical sigh, he scrubbed at his eyes. If he dug at them any more tonight in his efforts to oust Bodie from his flat, he'd do himself an injury.

"Goodnight," Doyle said again, but more decisively this time, turning away and walking to his bedroom. He gently closed the door and leaned against it, not moving until Bodie's knock roused him from his reverie. Why not tell Bodie? It wasn't a big thing. Probably because Bodie had been curious, and Bodie loved to rib him endlessly but still, he could be magnanimous and spill the beans.

Well, maybe not just yet...

Bodie was tapping on the door. Doyle put every bit of weariness into his voice that he could when he called out, "Go away, Bodie!"

"Ray, this is silly. Listen, I'm sorry. All right? None of my affair, anyway. I'm off then. Pick you up at eight."

Doyle listened as Bodie moved away and walked down the hall. This was ridiculous. All he had to do was tell Bodie the whole story. Bodie wouldn't laugh -- much. Besides, Bodie actually sounded hurt just now when he had apologised. He turned and yanked the bedroom door open. "Bodie?"

Bodie glanced at Doyle, hopefulness and expectation in his eyes. Doyle felt a stab of remorse for treating his best mate to the sharp edge of his tongue, and for dragging out such a small thing for so long. He knew how Bodie was. Bodie's natural curiosity regarding everything to do with Doyle, not to mention Bodie's need to have a stockpile of ammunition for teasing, was something he should be used to after all these years. It didn't take much to keep Bodie happy: plenty of food, a good weapon, a fast motor, a pint or two, and Doyle to needle (and to watch his back).

"Yeah?"

Bodie's expectation did Doyle in. "Don't go." He walked into the lounge and gave Bodie an apologetic smile. "It's not something we should fall out over, mate. Just me being a prat. Sorry."

Bodie was instantly in front of him, eyes alight with happiness and a daft grin plastered on his face. "No problem. I wasn't narked or anything just being nosey." His smile widened and he added, "As usual."

"Why?" Doyle asked, serious now, putting a hand on Bodie's arm.

"Eh?"

"Why do you care? What does it matter?" Doyle really wanted to know, to hear what Bodie would say about him; about them.

Bodie looked genuinely puzzled when he said, "We're mates. It's my job to dig into your brain and get the good bits. How else am I going to get a rise out of you?"

Before Doyle could stop himself, he blurted out, "Could think of a few easier ways."

"What?" Bodie looked confused for a moment before the words registered. Then he grinned, his eyes dancing with amusement. "That could be arranged."

They stood grinning at each other for a moment before Doyle shook his head in fond exasperation. Bodie was everything a bloke could ask for in a mate: loyal, dependable, exasperating, funny, entertaining. "You are such a mad bastard."

"Ta, mate. But, Ray, we're friends. Friends poke fun and tease. Friends look out for each other. Right?"

Doyle punched his arm lightly. "Right. And you're my best friend. Amongst other things."

"It's those other things that I do enjoy," Bodie said solemnly, making Doyle smile.

"Always fishing for declarations of love. Never took you for a hearts 'n' flowers man."

Bodie laughed, giving Doyle's hair a tousle. "Love you as well. Anyway... I'd best be off."

Quickly, Doyle snagged Bodie's sleeve and tugged lightly. He canted his head and gave Bodie a sidelong look. "Stay the night?"

"Thought you were knackered."

"Nah. Just felt a bit funny. Talking about Cowley."

"We always talk about Cowley," Bodie said sagely.

"I know. It's just... Okay, I'll tell you."

Their gazes met and then, after a pause, Bodie grinned. "Don't have to tell me now. It's enough to know you would."

"I don't like secrets between us. Besides, you've got clearance and it's long past. He hasn't been in MI5 for years." Doyle picked at a button on his shirt. "And we did promise that we'd give this," he waved a hand at Bodie then at himself, "all we could to make it work, so it's best if I admit to you that I... knew Cowley before CI5." He shifted slightly and added, "Back when I was with the Met."

Bodie's eyes widened. "You knew Cowley? Wait, don't tell me. I was just teasing earlier when I asked about the nuptials! Please say that I didn't cotton onto something dark and dirty. I couldn't stomach the very idea of you and him together."

Doyle gave Bodie a questioning look before he started to laugh. "Cowley and me? You don't mean that you actually thought... even for a minute... Bodie, you prat." Doyle reached out and touched his lover's hair with his fingertips. "As if I'd shag Cowley." He struggled to keep his lips from twitching and said quite seriously, "But you must admit, he's a handsome man."

"Doyle!" Bodie whined, shuddering mightly. "Please."

Doyle burst out laughing. "Christ, Bodie, you should see your face! Really, mate, it's nothing. Saved his life, that's all."

"Eh? Saved the old man's life?" Bodie's eyebrow rose to his hairline. "So have I! More than once, I'll have you know, and I didn't rate a silver-framed piccy." He pushed out his lower lip, dabbed at his right eye and let out a disgusting sniffle. "He always did fancy you more than me!"

Doyle rolled his eyes. "You are just proving beyond a doubt that you are irretrievably hopeless."

Bodie continued his pout for another moment before he started to laugh. "Come on, Ray, give over. What happened? Or are you going to make me have to beat it out of you."

"You and whose army?"

"A challenge?" Bodie quipped, launching himself at his partner.

More than an hour later, they lay sprawled on Doyle's big bed amongst discarded clothing, pleasantly sated and both a sticky, sweaty mess from head to toe. Bodie caressed Doyle's chest, playing with the hair there. "Come on, lover. Why do you have a silver-framed picture of old George?"

"Not going to let it lie, are you?" Doyle absentmindedly stroked Bodie's hair.

"Nope."

"You can have it, if you like."

"Oh, cheers." Bodie tweaked Doyle's nipple. "And so...?"

"And so..." Doyle lifted his head and glared at Bodie, who merely grinned in return and tapped the end of Doyle's nose with a finger. "Don't look at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"The picture of innocence! Just the opposite. You're conniving and manipulative-"

"And gorgeous."

Doyle couldn't help but laugh at Bodie when he acted like God's gift 'n all. "And gorgeous." He slapped Bodie's bottom, appreciating the well toned muscles rippling under his palm. "Might as well admit it and get it over with."

"That would be the proper course of action," Bodie answered in his best public school boy accent, flexing his bum cheeks.

With an exasperated sigh, Doyle patted the firm flesh again, admitting, "He was one of my subjects in art class."

"Eh?"

"He was one of my-"

"Heard what you said, but wait. He was a nude model? No!" At Doyle's nod, Bodie's mouth dropped open. "Cowley posed nude?"

"Hang about. He was undercover, following orders," Doyle said with conviction.

"Cowley? Nude? But you just said he was undercover!" Bodie started to laugh. He cast Doyle a mischievous glance.

Doyle laughed. "He was nude undercover. He's a man of many talents."

"Do you still have them?"

"What?"

"Your drawings! God, you are thick sometimes."

Doyle loved when Bodie arched his eyebrow and managed to look put out. It only made Doyle want to tease and lick it and other things until Bodie screamed. But he wanted to tell Bodie about Cowley, so for now he answered, "No! I didn't draw his body anyway. I drew his face. Thought it was -- interesting."

"Wait, wait. This isn't making any sense. How did you save his life?" Bodie held up a hand. "I swear, Ray, you are the worst storyteller in the entire world. Now start at the beginning and tell Uncle Bodie exactly what happened."

Doyle scrubbed at his itchy nose. "If I tell you, then I'd have to-" A hand over his mouth stopped his words.

"You'd have to fuck me senseless."

Doyle licked at the hand over his mouth before he pushed it away. "I suppose you do have clearance," he admitted with a lift of an eyebrow.

"I suppose," Bodie said, grinning. "Get on with it before I die of starvation, will you."

"If you'd rather eat first-"

"No!" Bodie huffed out an exasperated breath. "If this really bothers you, then I suppose you could forget it. But I just don't understand why you didn't tell me you and he had history. I'm feeling decidedly unloved." Again he tossed Doyle his best pout, full of wide eyes and trembling lips.

Doyle almost fell off the bed laughing. "Yeah, right. As if I'd get a moment's peace with you. Do you think I'm daft? Don't answer that!" Bodie laughed as well, making Doyle giggle harder. "God only knows why I love you. You're a first-class nutter."

"But I'm your nutter."

"That you are," Doyle admitted with a smile, hugging Bodie quickly before he pushed him back onto his own pillow. "It's going to be a big disappointment to you, mate."

"I'm willing to take that chance."

Bodie must have meant it because Doyle watched while his partner got comfortable and turned those all-seeing eyes on him. Pierced by the intense gaze, Doyle had no excuses left. He cleared his throat.

"Really, mate, not a big deal. Cowley was undercover trying to nab bad blokes selling secrets to Britain's enemies. 'Course, I found out all of that after the fact. I admit I fell into the rescue part of all of this on a lark. Happened to go back to the college after I'd forgotten me keys. Couldn't get into the flat and it was late at night, so I jimmied the door-"

Bodie looked shocked. "Doyle! You were a copper and doing a B&E?"

"Yeah," Doyle admitted; blushing, he was sure. "Didn't want to sleep on the tube!"

"Guess not," Bodie admitted, nodding for Doyle to continue.

"It was dark inside, and I didn't want to risk turning on a light. Didn't want the copper on the beat seeing me, did I?" Bodie shook his head; Doyle continued, "Sneaked across the room and then I heard voices. There was a storage room off to the right and I could see light from under the door. At first, I didn't think much of it. Reckoned the teacher was shagging one of the young things that came to class, all wide eyed over the artistic type, you know."

"I'd have shagged you," Bodie offered, touching Doyle's arm.

"Ta, mate. Anyway, I went to the door and listened. Heard noises, like somebody was being worked over. Grunts and cries, and hard words demanding information. So I kicked the door in."

"What? Christ Ray, that was stupid! Could've been killed!"

Doyle felt a small rush of adrenaline as he remembered. "I almost was! They had guns, three of 'em. I stood there unable to move, and they turned and one of them fired. I was so stunned, I stumbled backwards. Bullet flew right over me head!"

"And there you were, my scrappy partner, then an innocent copper, with three lunatics with guns." Bodie gave him a look that clearly said Doyle was a nutter through and through.

"Yup. And flat out on my back. Knew then I was a dead man. No way they'd miss a second time with me splayed out on the floor."

"Obviously you didn't bite it."

With a mischievous grin, Doyle nodded. "Observant, aren't you? Well, I laid there for maybe two seconds, then I grabbed the nearest thing that I could reach, which happened to be a jar of turpentine. Tossed it at them, caught two of them full in the face. Then I scrambled to my feet and threw a chair out the window. Prayed the bobby was just 'round the corner and he'd come running."

"Ah, good thinking. And the third bloke?"

"He got knocked back on his arse by his two screaming mates. Gave me enough time to get to my feet and find a weapon close at hand. A cricket bat, as it happened."

Bodie gave a low whistle of appreciation. "Jesus Ray, you really are a first class lunatic. You take the prize, mate. Tell me you didn't go after them with a cricket bat."

"Alright. I didn't go after them with a cricket bat."

Bodie looked surprised at Doyle's revelation. His forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Then what did you do?" he demanded.

"I went after them with a cricket bat," Doyle said with pride.

"God help me, but I'm going to kill you myself. You won the match, eh?"

"'Course."

"You really are a madman. Christ, anybody would think that you were crazy enough to want to pack it in at a tender age." Bodie grabbed Doyle's arm and shook it.

"Bodie, in case you've forgotten, I could be done in almost every day in this job."

"Yeah... but..." Bodie sighed. "I know. Still, don't like thinking about that. Besides," he glared at Doyle through narrowed eyes, "back then you hadn't been trained by Macklin and didn't have Cowley for a boss. So finish the bloody story so I can have something to eat before I shag you into the mattress."

Doyle grinned. "My turn, I'll be doing the shagging tonight. I will, however, feed that bottomless pit of yours before I take full advantage of your arse."

Bodie looked affronted. "Too right you will. Have to keep up my strength. I'm still a growing boy." He cast Doyle a toothy grin.

"Jesus, Bodie," Doyle said around his laughter, "you're going to be the death of me if you don't stop making me laugh. My sides ache!"

Bodie laughed as well, and clambered up. He tossed a leg over Doyle and planted his bottom on his muscled thighs. Then he grabbed Doyle's wrists and pushed them over his head. He held on and leaned down.

"Come on," Bodie coaxed, licking his lips. "What happened after my ex-copper lover clobbered those thugs with a cricket bat! I'm going to faint from hunger and anticipation before you finish the bloody story."

Doyle wiggled and, with an exaggerated sigh and a roll of his eyes, he said, "Couple of things happened all at once. One of the blokes was still screaming and digging at his eyes. The other didn't get as much in his and he was trying to get up from the floor. The third one was desperately trying to shove his mate off, so I bashed the two of them smack on the head. By the time the coppers burst in, I had George untied from the chair and was helping him up."

"So George was undercover, eh?" He tapped a finger in the centre of Doyle's forehead.

"What level clearance did you say you have?" Doyle asked, giving Bodie his most serious look.

Bodie leaned down and dragged his tongue over Doyle's nipple. "Talk faster, or I'll drive you so crazy, you'll beg me to listen to your story." He bit down gently, chuckling when Doyle gasped and arched up.

"Bodieeee," Doyle gasped out.

"You're not talking fast enough." Bodie sucked harder.

"Oh... Bodie..." In a rush, Doyle sputtered out, "He was trying to stop sensitive information about British and American operatives behind the Iron Curtain from being leaked. Bodie!" Doyle shuddered when Bodie moved to the other nipple. He laved it for a moment before he released his hold on Doyle and practically leapt from the bed.

"I want my dinner." Bodie stood, hands on hips, glaring at his lover.

Doyle lay for a moment, catching his breath. Looking at Bodie standing before him, naked, flaunting his body in all its glory, made Doyle shiver. "You're fucking gorgeous."

"I know. Now get up and feed me. And whilst you're cooking, you can finish telling me exactly why you have that photo of The Cow. Or do I have to work more of my magic on that body of yours?"

Doyle rubbed his finger across his lips. "Hmm. Let me think... I pick the magic."

Bodie grinned as he tossed Doyle his robe. "Put that on. Right now, you look good enough to eat and food be damned. But I need fuel for later on, so move that delectable arse and feed your better half."

Laughing, Doyle slid from the bed and shrugged into the robe while Bodie put on track suit bottoms.

"Afraid I'll take advantage of you, mate?" Doyle asked, one hand stroking Bodie's cotton-covered buttocks as they made their way into the kitchen.

"I should hope so." Bodie gave him the sweetest smile; Doyle stopped dead in his tracks to merely look at Bodie's face and drink in his expression.

For a moment, Doyle felt his throat tighten at the love in Bodie's eyes. He paused a second to gather himself before he said, "Love you, mate."

Bodie's smile lit up his face. "You too. Now cook!" He tried to look serious when he pointed at the cooker. "And hurry it up."

They ended up preparing a quick dinner together, laughing and feeding each other bits of food while they made omelettes, melted cheese sandwiches, a salad (at Doyle's insistence), and a fresh pot of tea.

Sitting side by side on the sofa, Doyle finished his food first and leaned back. He let out a belch and rubbed his stomach. Picking up his cup, he said, "I do fix a good meal."

"Hmmm," Bodie said around a full mouth. He swallowed. "Don't forget that I did half the work. Now that photograph...?"

"Are you jealous that I have that photo in my flat?"

Bodie chewed thoughtfully on his last piece of tomato before he finally admitted, "Don't have a picture of me in the place, do you?"

"Got one of you in my wallet. That way you're always with me, against my bum. You like it there."

"Oh" Bodie blinked, smiling softly. "Then that's all right."

"Silly sod. Love you, don't I? It's really quite uninteresting. My supervisor was pleased with the accolades he got from the higher ups after what I'd done. Threw me this bash at the local and gave me a thank-you token and that damned picture. Christ only knows how he got it from Cowley or his boss."

"That's rather odd."

"Yeah, isn't it though? I think my DI was so enamoured with CI5 that he probably would have kept the photo for himself."

Both men laughed. Bodie ruffled Doyle's hair. "And you've kept it all these years?"

Doyle nodded. "'Course. It's bad luck to throw away pictures of the living. Didn't your gran tell you that?"

"Eh? Ah, no. My gran wasn't a superstitious crone."

"Hey!" Doyle rose and stood hands on his hips. "No disparaging the family."

"Come here, you. I'll disparage you good." Bodie latched onto Doyle's wrist and tugged.

Doyle dropped across Bodie's lap, laughing. His hands reached up and cupped Bodie's face. "Come here, you," he echoed. "I'm in the mood to be disparaged."

They kissed for many minutes before they surfaced for air. Panting heavily, Bodie brushed his fingers down Doyle's cheek.

"It's past midnight. Let's go to bed."

Doyle smiled as he scrambled off Bodie. "Going to brush my teeth, wash my face, and warm up the lube."

Bodie rose and followed Doyle down the hallway, fingers dancing on the bum cheeks covered with terry towelling teasingly prancing in front of him. "So I have an idea."

Doyle paused. "Why am I not going to like this?"

Bodie looked innocent when he said, "Let's shag in front of the old man's picture."

"No way, mate. That's sick. Besides," Doyle looked around the room with suspicion, "he's got eyes and ears everywhere. He's fucking psychic if you ask me. Having that picture staring at me bottom would give me shivers right down my spine. He might get enough weird vibes through the picture that he'd know what we're doing."

"Cowley already knows what we're doing," Bodie added sagely.

"Yeah, I know, but I don't need him to know that I know he knows. You know?"

"Ah, no. Not a clue. But still, I think we should at least pay homage to the photo. After all, he did have the intelligence to pair us up."

"All the homage he's getting out of me is I won't burn that picture. Now get your arse into that bed and make sure you're all nice and ready for me. I'm tired of just staring at your bottom. I want a piece of it. Up close and personal." Doyle gave Bodie his most lecherous glare while he licked his lips in anticipation.

Bodie laughed and lifted a hand towards Doyle. "I think- Shit!"

Doyle saw Bodie flinch and scrunch his eyes. "What?"

Backing away down the hallway, Bodie shook his head. "N-nothing."

"Bodie, what is it?" Doyle looked into his partner's pale face. Bodie looked positively frightened. "What's going on?" He followed Bodie's gaze and he saw a blob of brown fur huddled in the corner. "It's a mouse. A bit of a thing. We must have roused it when we-" Doyle looked back at his partner. Bodie's face was shades paler than usual. If he was asked to put down a wager, he'd say that Bodie was close to fainting. "Hey... It's okay."

Bodie shook his head. "Can't... abide them."

Doyle wasn't used to seeing his brave partner quite this upset, especially over something as small as a mouse. They'd been into warehouses and disused buildings all over London, often full of rats, and Bodie had never flinched. But here, at home, where he was safe and relaxed, he didn't have that adrenaline high to keep him moving. Doyle felt the need to protect his lover. "He won't hurt you." Once more he glanced at the mouse, taking a step towards it. The mouse quickly scampered around the corner and into the lounge. By the time Doyle poked his head out into the room, it was nowhere to be seen.

"Don't- I can't-" Bodie's hand reached out to Doyle, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Bodie?"

"Irrational, I know. They got at me when I was locked up."

"In Africa?" Bodie nodded, and Doyle felt a stab of sympathy. "You've been through wars and torture and imprisonment, and you've taken on murderers and assassins, and a mouse will be your undoing."

Doyle went to Bodie and put a hand on his arm. He felt his partner shiver as their gazes met. "Stupid, I know," Bodie muttered, "but I hate the slimy, dirty, flea-infested buggers."

"Come here, you." Doyle pulled Bodie into his arms. For some reason, the very fact that this rough and touch ex-merc was undone by a mouse made him love Bodie even more. "Silly sod." He held his lover close, comforting him with sweeps of his hand down Bodie's trembling back. "I have an idea!"

"What?" Bodie snapped, gaze still frantically searching corners for the wayward creature.

"Hang about." He patted Bodie's back a few times before he stepped away. Somehow, Doyle managed not to comment when Bodie kept a firm hand on the sleeve of Doyle's robe. Under any other circumstances, he would have enjoyed teasing Bodie over his fear, but the look on his partner's face made him hold his tongue. He knew that phobias like this weren't easy to control, and he knew what a rough time of it Bodie'd had in Africa. He doubted Bodie had even told Cowley all that he'd told Doyle about his time in prison. Doyle's loyalty to Bodie ran deeply. They were often two against the entire world, and Doyle would die for Bodie if that time ever came.

"Okay. Here's what we'll do." From the bookcase, Doyle retrieved the framed photo of CI5's controller. "We'll put the picture right here." Placing the photograph in the centre of the floor, he nodded his approval. "If that mouse has the balls to come out, Cowley's laser eyes will be the death of it."

Bodie blinked slowly, and then he cocked his head, his gaze holding Doyle's. "Right. Cowley”ll get him. Fucking mouse."

"Come on, mate. Let's get to bed."

Bodie allowed himself to be led away and tucked under the sheets. "Ta, Ray."

"For what?" Doyle asked quietly.

"Not laughing at me." Bodie's gratitude was evident.

Wide blue eyes searched Doyle's face. He reached out and ran his fingers down Bodie's cheek. He felt sentimental and tender over Bodie's vulnerability. "Wouldn't laugh at you. Well, not over this. We all have our weaknesses. 'Sides, you've enough other things that I can beat you up with."

Gratitude shone from Bodie's eyes. "Still... Seems rather silly."

"Never you mind. Going to use the loo. Be back in a shake."

Bodie nodded, and Doyle had to smile when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bodie throw the sheet over his head. He used the toilet, brushed his teeth and slipped a fresh tube of lubricant into the pocket of his dressing gown. Then he quietly walked down the hall and peeked into the lounge. He was astonished at what he saw.

There, on the floor in front of Cowley's picture, sat the mouse. On its haunches, it was busy washing its whiskers. Apparently, Doyle mused, mice weren't as intimidated by Cowley's visage as his own agents were.

Very slowly Doyle picked up the closest thing in which to capture the mouse: a wicker basket he used as a rubbish bin. Thankfully, he'd taken out the rubbish earlier and it sat empty. He kept a close eye on his prey and surprised himself when he actually slapped the basket down over the creature. Mouth open, he paused. Now what? Lift the basket and the mouse would scarper off. Wait... Doyle went to the kitchen and retrieved a baking sheet. He put a hand on the bottom of the basket and slid the flat side of the metal sheet under the basket. Then he manoeuvred his hand under the thin metal until he could lift the entire contraption.

Now to get the mouse out of the house. The kitchen window. Doyle made his way to the kitchen and, after setting his mousetrap on the table, he opened the sash. Carrying his captive carefully, he made sure that he lifted the basket just enough so that the mouse could escape in the direction of the garden. It wasn't a long drop for such a creature, and a flip of the sheet helped it on its way.

Heading across the lounge, Doyle paused before the framed picture. "Thanks, George." Giving the photo a jaunty salute, he headed down the hall. Back in his bedroom, Doyle took off his robe and slipped under the sheets. He snuggled up to his warm bed partner and nibbled on the closest earlobe.

Bodie jumped. "Your feet are freezing! What in blazes have you been doing?"

"Your furry friend has been dispatched," Doyle said proudly.

"Eh? Cowley's photo killed it?" Bodie asked hopefully.

"No, but it mesmerised the bugger so that I was able to capture him and toss him right out of the window."

"My hero." Bodie batted his lashes and gave a cheeky grin.

Doyle chuckled. "Your hero's going to shag you into next week."

Bodie turned in Doyle's arms. He put a loud kiss on the tip of Doyle's nose and grinned. "Get the lube warm, dragon slayer. My heart is yours."

Laughing, Doyle pulled Bodie even closer. "Christ, but you've got a glib tongue, even if you are a mad bastard. Come here. I've got plans for you."

"Evil ones, I hope."

Bodie's deliberately smart upper class accent made Doyle put on one of his own. "Your hopes will shortly be fulfilled, my good man. In more ways than one, if you're extremely lucky. Now do be quiet and turn over."

The End


End file.
